


Swinging Out of the Blue

by tartan_suitcase (miss_whimsy)



Series: A World Entirely Our Own [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Implied Relationships, Post Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1451650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_whimsy/pseuds/tartan_suitcase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He kept his eyes closed when he returned to consciousness and tried to assess the situation before he gave away any change in his state.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swinging Out of the Blue

He kept his eyes closed when he returned to consciousness and tried to assess the situation before he gave away any change in his state.  
   
The bed he was lying on was warm and comfortable, which didn't seem right. The light pressing against his eyelids did, but it was different to what he was used to somehow. Not as harsh and blinding.  
   
There were machines surrounding him, he could hear them beeping and whirring. That wasn't new either, but again the sounds were soothing and repetitive, rather than angry warning screeches.  
   
There was a tube in his throat, which he ignored, and a drip in his arm.  
   
Someone was holding his hand.  
   
A door open and closed. A minute passed.  
   
"You should get some sleep."  
   
The voice came from the opposite side of the room. It was weary and strained, as though this wasn't the first time it had said those words and gotten the exact same answer.  
   
"I'm fine, Sam," a closer voice said, the one that belonged to the man holding his hand.  
   
"Yeah, I know," the other man - Sam - replied. "Coulson was fretting."  
   
There was a huff of air. "I'll bet." He sounded fond.  
   
"I told him to go to bed," Sam said, his voice moving closer. "And then Clint put him to bed."  
   
There was a hum this time, amused.  
   
"How is he?"  
   
"The same."  
   
"Have you eaten?"  
   
"Have you?"  
   
That received a chuckle. "I helped Thor ransack the kitchen. I think Tony's going to have to buy this place."  
   
"I think Tony already owns this place."  
   
"Uh huh." Sam shifted again. "He's outside."  
   
The hand holding his twitched slightly. "He needs to..."  
   
"Uh, pot, I wouldn't go telling the kettle what to do right now," Sam said. "He's out there is all I'm saying. Rhodey too, but I imagine that's less about you."  
   
The hand twitched again and this time, he squeezed back.  
   
"Bucky?"

He didn't move.

"Shit. Should I get a doctor?"

He squeezed the hand again, slowly and carefully.

"No, no," the man said. "Sorry I… I must be more tired than I thought. Maybe I should eat."

"I'll get you something," Sam said, moving away again. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Thanks, Sam."

The door opened again and closed. There was a short muffled conversation and then footsteps fading away.

"I know you're awake," the man said. "Bucky? Can you open your eyes?"

He had no idea who Bucky was. Was his name Bucky? He couldn't remember. It didn't sound right. 

But that voice.

He knew that voice.

He opened his eyes.

The man sitting next to him looked wrecked. There were scratches and bruises on his face, fading circles under his eyes. His blonde hair was dirty and unkempt. He was exhausted. His eyes were shining. He smiled.

"Hey," the man laughed and then choked. He rested his elbows on the bed and pressed the hand still caught between his to his forehead. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay. It's all going to be okay. I promise."

Oh.

It hit him all at once, like a wave, knocking him off balance and he struggled to be free, to sit up, to pull the tube from his throat.

"Wait!"

"Steve."

Steve froze and Bucky clutched at his arm, falling towards him. 

"Bucky?"

"I remember," he croaked, throat raw and burning. He needed water. Steve was more important. "I remember."

Steve moved slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed as though by moving too fast his might knock all the memories out of his head. Bucky kept his eyes closed and wished he would. All the bad ones. He curled across Steve's lap, clinging on. Steve surrounded him, one arm tight around his shoulders, the other around his waist, head resting against Bucky's.

"I know you promised you wouldn't die before me," Steve murmured after a while, "but this seems like an excessive way to make that happen. Not everything's a competition, Buck."

"That's rich coming from you," Bucky argued, voice muffled against Steve's stomach. "At least your seventy years of sleep was uninterrupted."

"I'm making it a rule right now that you can only play the 'I was brainwashed by international terrorists card' five times."

"You are such a jerk," Bucky sighed and then coughed. "I can't believe they gave you an exhibit at the Smithsonian. It's like they don't even know you."

Steve laughed a little, buried his face against Bucky's neck. "I saved the world a couple of times."

"Not everything's a competition, Steven." He coughed again. "Can you get me some water before I throw up on you?"

"You've had your memories back five minutes and you're already bossing me around," Steve complained, as he shifted them around a little and poured a glass of water.

"Someone has to keep you in line," Bucky said, and lay back against the pillows, sipping the water Steve passed him.

"I have other people who do that," Steve told him. 

"The redhead."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Five whole minutes."

"She's gorgeous."

"Unbelievable."

"A little out of your league…"

"I'm starting to regret not kicking your ass a little harder."

"Seventy years of torture, Steve. I'm just saying, you could put in a good word for me."

"You shot her."

"Yeah, but she seems like the kind of dame who would look at that as foreplay."

Steve smiled,and gave a half shrug that meant that was probably accurate. Then he sobered. "Is this what we're doing?"

Bucky closed his eyes. "If you want to have a heart to heart can it wait until I don't feel like I was hit by a bus?'

"Should I get a doctor?" Steve sounded worried. It was wonderful.

"Don't leave me."

The door opened and Sam slipped inside, holding a tray of food. "Nat's out there now too. And Thor. And Bruce is back to being Bruce. I'm pretty sure Clint never came back from wherever he stashed… Shit."

"It's okay," Steve said and he was smiling and still tired, but he looked happy. Bucky put down the glass and reached for his hand again. "It's okay. Sam this is Bucky. Bucky this is Sam."

"I tried to kill you," Bucky said, mostly to hear Steve laugh again, which he did. "Sorry about that."

"Oh, yeah," Sam said tentatively, looking back and forth between them. "We're cool."

Steve took the tray and placed it on the table. "Thanks, Sam. Tell the others… I just need another five minutes okay?"

"Sure," Sam said, backing up towards the door. "Take your time."

He slipped out and there was another burst of conversation, then sounds of a scuffle, then silence.

Steve let out a breath. "I have some good friends."

"I'm glad," Bucky murmured. "Steve. I'm so…"

"Shut up," Steve sighed and swung his legs up onto the bed so they were stretched out side by side, like when they were kids. "Just shut up, okay?"

Bucky closed his eyes as Steve curled around him again, and he drifted off to sleep, feeling safe for the first time in seventy-five years.


End file.
